Bubbles and Blood
by holmes-osapien
Summary: Sherlock should have learnt his lesson by now. He can't worm his way out of trouble when Molly's involved.


Molly Holmes was exhausted. She sauntered into the living room and dumped her bag on the sofa whilst shrugging her coat off and depositing it on the hook next to the door. Sherlock's coat and scarf were missing so she presumed he was out exploring the busy streets of London in pursuit of a criminal of some sort. On her way to the kitchen of Baker Street, Molly kicked her shoes off. She stopped in shock horror at what should have been her kitchen.

She though she had escaped the dead bodies for the day. She was infuriated that Sherlock had the audacity to leave a bisected torso on the kitchen table. Cursing out loud she ventured deeper into the kitchen, dodging the mess that cluttered every square inch of the small room. Molly stared at the cadaver in disgust as she pulled her mobile from her back pocket. Enraged, she dialed her husband's number and pressed the phone to her ear.

Sherlock knelt down beside John and Lestrade, who were examining the murder victim currently splayed across the riverbank. Just as he was about to announce his deductions, his mobile rang. He groaned as he pulled out his phone and glanced at the caller idea. He simply stared at it for a while, wishing it to disappear. John and Lestrade stared at him expectantly, until John realised why Sherlock was reluctant to answer. "Now's the time to own up what you have done." John laughed. Sherlock scowled at him and answered the call. He put it against his ear only to pull it abruptly away again.

Both Lestrade and John could hear Molly shriek down the phone at him. Sherlock frowned and said nothing until Molly had finished her rant. "Fine. I'm on my way. Do not touch it before I arrive, you will affect the results of the experiment." John laughed harder as he heard Molly snap back at him 'Screw you and your experiments! I am not having you dissect and conduct tests on dead things on my kitchen table!' Sherlock hung up and pocketed his phone again whilst he muttered to Lestrade his deductions. After that, he promptly left the crime scene and headed in the direction his angry wife waited for him.

Molly chucked her phone on what space was left on the kitchen side, and rolled her sleeves above her elbows. She decided she might as well make a start on washing the surgical equipment. She left the hot tap to run as she added washing up liquid to the mix of swirling water. "MRS HUDSON!" She yelled as she reached over the body to retrieve some of the cutting knives and spoons to put in the sink. As she straightened up she realised she had leant in the pool of blood around the body. Her white shirt was splattered with the blood pattern and she looked vaguely like a murderer. She giggled to herself at the thought.

She should have been angry as she had ruined her shirt but instead she found it comical given her usual delicacy in her own pathology work. Just as she turned to walk back to the sink, Mrs. Hudson appeared at the doorway, causing Molly to jump. She lost her grip on the knives in the haste of the shock and they clattered onto the torso on the table. Two of the five knives slide through the gap in the exposed ribcage. "No!" Molly cried as she heard the faint thud of the tools landing amongst the organs. Molly turned back to Mrs. Hudson who wore a disgusted look upon her face at the mess and gore. "Mrs. Hudson, do you happen to have any rubber gloves?" She asked sounding exasperated. Mrs. Hudson examined the sight around her before smiling kindly at Molly, "I don't know, I may have a pair or two. I'll go and look for you." She turned and was half out of the door when she turned and said to Molly, "I don't know how you can handle him and his wretched experiments." Molly sighed. "I don't know either." She confessed as the older woman descended the stairs to her own flat.

When Sherlock hesitantly climbed the steps to his flat he heard Molly swear as she started to clean up his mess. He walked into the living room and discarded his coat, scarf and blazer before rolling up his sleeves and heading towards the kitchen. Upon entering, he watched his wife as she slowly pulled both of her arms out of the inside of the corpse. She had heard him enter and slowly turned to glare at him. His eyes widened at her appearance. From her hands to elbows, she was covered in blood. Her middle was stained with the colour of crimson and in her hands she held two of the knives previously used in what was once an experiment. He felt the urge to scold her upon ruining his results, but thought better of it upon looking closer at her appearance. Some of her hair had fallen from her braid and the scowl set in stone across her face left her looking positively murderous. He took three steps backwards upon instinct.

They stayed stood in their positions staring at each other for a long moment, before Molly's expression twisted into one of laughter. Sherlock looked like a frightened child, and his facial composure portrayed he was intimidated by her current state. She placed the knives into the sink full of soap and water and turned to face him. "Oh god your face! You looked like I was going to murder you!" She hissed between her laughter. She quickly composed herself and smirked at him. However through her outburst of laughter she had not forgotten she was supposed to be angry with him. But she found it incredibly hard to be so, when his body language showed ignorance to what he had done. He walked into the kitchen and around the table to gather some of the equipment. "I actually though for a moment that you would murder me." He commented, returning her smirk timidly- he was still not sure whether she would tear his head off again... She snorted, "Who would I get to help clean up this mess if I killed you?"

[30 minutes later]

Both Molly and Sherlock together spent the afternoon scrubbing the kitchen clean again. All the while Molly had been planning her revenge. Simply telling Sherlock off made no difference to his actions- she had learnt this over the period of their marriage and relationship. Just as they finished washing up the last of the petri dishes, Molly decided to take action. She lifted the tub currently sat in the sink and made it look as if she was about to tip the contents down the drain. But just as Sherlock turned to throw the towel onto the now corpse-less table, Molly threw the water over him.

He turned to scowl down at her as she laughed at him. "That was the first of many punishments for leaving a corpse in the middle of our flat." She warned him. He was absolutely soaked and streams of red soapy bubbles slid down his lean frame. She giggled hopelessly, and Sherlock found her laughter to be infectious. He expression considerably lightened and he laughed along with her, excepting his fate as he was certain he could not deter Molly from taking revenge on him. Unexpectedly, he dove forward and grabbed her around the middle. She suddenly stopped laughing as he pulled her against her. Sherlock a primary thought at the current time was that he could possibly lighten his 'sentence' as it was. She gazed up into his eyes. He made forward to kiss her but stopped just inches away. He waited there a minute to tease her before pulling back and throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed in protest. He began to walk further into the flat. "Where are we going?" Molly queried. He chuckled to himself. "To take a shower Mrs. Holmes, because I refuse to kiss a women who is currently covered in blood and looks like a murderer." Molly rolled her eyes and whispered in his ear, "Do not think for one minute this will get you off the hook, Mr Holmes."

FIN. -Jess


End file.
